


heartsick

by jasondean



Category: Glee
Genre: ???? IDk im bad at tags sorry, Angst, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>blaine is kurts first love and hed be the perfect husband; hes already the perfect fiance. sometimes perfect is hard to keep around, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heartsick

sometimes you find yourself wishing you were back in lima.

not that you prefer a poor excuse for a city over the lights and the sound and the energy of new york, really. because you dont; new york is your home, no matter where youve come from, what youve done, who you are, its yours.

so, no, you dont miss ohio, really. it would be a lie to you do. its not like the feeling fades when youre back home for holidays and visits that become less and less common. when you think of lima, you think of mckinley, which makes you think of glee club. 

"thats the thing, kurt. there are a million places where you can sing in new york. i bet half of them are shitty showchoir groups at nyada, so, why dont you just join one of those? theres your new underdog story."

you nod, just because its easier to agree with rachel than to go against her. she seems a bit shocked you give in so quickly, because isnt the whole basis of your friendship an endless tug-of-war? you hated each other in the beginning for the same reasons you love each other now -- to put it simply, youre both triple As. annoying ambitious assholes. you usually find the tiniest things to argue about with her just to keep you both grounded, and she doesnt understand why this topic would be any different.

but she doesnt press the issue. youre glad she doesnt.

* * *

 you decide it makes you feel better to say you miss lima than to say you miss the past. not that you do, of course. that would be like admitting defeat to both yourself and rachel and santana, who would never let you hear the end of it. 

you have always talked about how high school was an incredibly shitty part of your life. mostly because it is. sure, there was glee club and your friends, but there was also being smashed into lockers by karofsky, being whispered about in the halls, being thrown in dumpsters, and never being taken seriously. senior year switched things around, but not by much. you knew for as many people who called you an inspiration and applauded you for everything youve done and been through, there was twice as many in the student body who still knew you as the obnoxious gay kid who talked too much and carried himself in such a way that you would want to sock him at any opportunity youd got.

nyada was supposed to change that, but instead you just feel lonely. overwhelmingly, depressingly, pathetically lonely. you love rachel and santana more than youd ever care to admit, but for some reason watching them grow up and away from you is like being slowly constricted by an apathetic boa. its become much worse ever since rachel got fanny and santana swiped the understudy role. at first, it was reminiscent of mckinley, but then it hit you -- theyre going to be on  _broadway._ broadway! while you do what? waste your life away studying and working? then rachel stopped talking to you. she literally attempted to replace you with a new gay best friend. santana? shes tiring. youve always enjoyed shit-talking but for some reason youve become less and less interested.

you know they care. but you also know they have to care about themselves first. thats the biggest leap to adulthood no one ever warned you about.

its always in the back of your mind, that sinking feeling. its particularly bad today, so you dont bother with rachel or santana. you had a bad feeling about elliott at first, but you think hes become the most tolerable friend in the city at the current moment in time. 

"are you alright?"

youve zoned out, idly flipping through his records as an excuse to move and look like youre listening. you usually talk a lot more, but its hard to keep a conversation going when youve detached yourself from this whole situation. you forget if you even had classes today. maybe you had a shift at the diner? you think maybe elliott would know. maybe youll ask him. (you know you wont) 

youre just homesick.

"funny, rachel told me you didnt rest until you got into nyada."

its not really about ohio. you say youre heartsick. that feels right.

thats enough of an answer for him, and he goes back to talking while you go back to pretending to listen. 

* * *

you tell blaine your heart is in lima because thats where he is.

he says he loves you.

you pretend like you didnt receive the text.

* * *

rachel gets tired of you talking about him. you just missed him so much and now that youve taken him back he cant be with you in new york, and its so totally unfair. she doesnt try all that hard to pretend to care when you say youd do anything to kiss him, or to at least touch him again. she does chores around the apartment while you talk about all the things youll get to show him when he moves here. you tell her blaine in new york will fix everything. she tells you you always do this. 

whats "this"?

"youre head over heels for him when hes not around and then all of a sudden you get bored and throw him on the back burner. i guess its fun to watch, but it gets a little old." 

you roll your eyes and tell her off for being petty and jealous. its mostly relaxed banter and laughing from there.

you skype blaine that night and he tells you about prom or regionals or something, you dont really remember, because rachels words are all thats on your mind. they stubbornly stick there until you go to sleep. 

* * *

rachel tells you you fidget with your engagement ring whenever youre nervous. you dont tell her you keep forgetting its even there.

* * *

 its the best feeling in the world when blaine moves in. for a couple of weeks, at least. its nonstop flirting and love and making out and cheesy lines that has been building up for a year, and then you feel like your body has finally built up some sort of immunity to all of it and suddenly you need space, really need space, because youre choking and sputtering and there are way too many people in this stupid fucking place and theres no where to go where there arent people because its god damn new york city.

you feel like shit when you kick blaine out. you both agree its the best decision, but you both also know it was your idea entirely.

its hard enough to breathe with just rachel here.

"i know, i get it. this needed to happen. i love you, kurt."

you promise you love him too.

* * *

you got beat up. actually, you technically threw the first punches, but everyone says you got beat up. the scarring lining your face and the bruising painting your knuckles and ribs deep shades of blue and purple support this theory wholeheartedly.

you feel good. the injuries are a stark contrast from your delicate features. you look good. people take you more seriously now, they dont underestimate your drive and ambition and your pure will just to get things  _done._

for once, you feel like people actually respect you. all for throwing yourself in front of a kid you didnt even know and getting decked.

blaine tells you youre beautiful and traces a finger along the white scars, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you dont know why he does that. for some reason, you keep it to yourself that the scars make you feel safer. they dont mar you, they bring a new kind of beauty and strength. he says no one can really see them unless theyre up close. you shrug off your disappointment.

* * *

blaine is insecure.

hes insecure because you arent some precious daffodil anymore.

(fuck, you never were in the first place)

hes the first person to make you feel like you were more than what the world told you were. hes not the first person you realized too late lied to you, but he is the first person you push your feelings to the side for.

hes not perfect, but damn if he isnt close.

* * *

things change. you think more and more about mckinley every day. everyones gone. its just you and blaine.

you and blaine.

blaine and you.

he moves back in. things are better. you know blaine moving back in will fix everything.

"didnt you say that about blaine moving to new york?"

you hang up on rachel. its the last call you get from her in a long time. 

* * *

the word "fiance" never used to bother you. you shy away from the word at every chance you get. you fidget uncomfortably with the ring on your finger when blaine introduces you, his fiance, who he loves, who hes proud of, who hell be married too, who hell be with forever and ever until you both just rot in heaven or hell or somewhere in between. he asks you why you dont wear your ring as much. you lie and tell him your fingers mustve grown or something because it digs into your skin and hurts like a bitch. he says it might be the weather. he says youll get it refitted. you never do.

* * *

 you hate him. you hate him so much.

youre shaking and sobbing when you say it. you dont register the shock or the pain on blaines face; you dont register anything until later. your heart is beating so fast you can feel the blood racing through your veins to your arms and your legs, not to your brain though, right? because it feels like its been shut off.

you dont feel anything except for the blinding panic that simply switched on like a light. you dont feel pathetic, even though you should, because youre curled up in the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white as you hold onto to them. youre stark naked except for your boxers, which hang off your hips from where his hands were just a few moments before. 

he holds you until you stop crying. he holds you even after you stop. he holds you even as you fall asleep.

you wake up and he tells you the neighbors complained about the noise. you make a joke about how youve always been a screamer, and hes fucked you enough times to know that. he doesnt laugh or even crack a smile. he says hes worried about you.

you simply shrug and say you are too.

* * *

it doesnt happen again for a while. its annoying as all fuck to have blaines constant stream of  _are you sure youre okay? tell me if you arent. tell me if you dont want me to touch you here. okay? okay, kurt?_ while youre just trying to have sex with him. you basically have to lead him by the hand now. it pisses you off. you appreciate the sentiment, but _jesus christ_.

you jokingly tell him it ruins the mood. he recognizes your annoyance but doesnt stop. you dont want to tell him too because it  _does_ sort of make you feel safe and loved and special, but it also makes you feel like a weak idiot he has to look after.

but he gets off to that, right?

* * *

you know he really does try to keep in tune to you and your reactions but sometimes he forgets. sometimes you freeze up and youre completely silent, numb, and he doesnt even notice until he cums. then he makes a big deal about it when you dont answer him and it clicks with him thats something wrong and suddenly hes a big weepy, apologetic mess and you say its okay and he says it isnt and you go back in forth like this for a while. 

* * *

you hit him.

you were fine, more than fine, your hands were literally right down his pants a moment ago and you were desperate enough that he made fun of you and told you not ruin his clothes with the tugging because theyre way expensive and tear too easily. then he kissed you and just for a moment let his hand move from barely resting on your stomach to the bulge in your pants and it happened. you dont even remember forming your hand into a fist. you dont even feel it when it collides with his face.

stop. stop. stop. stop. stop. stop. stop.

its a nonstop chant. he steps away. it keeps going, though.

stop. stop. stop. stop. stop. stop. stop.

on a loop. you want to stop but your vocal chords and your mouth are working against you for some reason. youre frozen; then you arent. 

you barely left a bruise; it was a sloppy shot. he still has to hold a bag of frozen peas to his cheek. you say youre sorry over and over again as you make him hot chocolate and search the apartment from top to bottom for band-aids. ("kurt, its a bruise, a band-aid would literally be useless")

he brings up the idea of therapy.

you laugh in his face.

* * *

you miss rachel. you also miss santana, and sam, and mercedes, and artie. and tina, and quinn, and brittany. and, well, this list could go on for a while.

most of all, you miss blaine.

its a ridiculous thought; youre fiances. you literally live together. but still, you miss him.

you say so one night when the ending credits to  _re-animator_ are rolling on the laptop nestled between you and blaine, your head resting on his shoulder and both your legs tangled and twisted under the blankets. you say it when youre both half-asleep. youre focused on the warmth from blaine and the computer. youre breathing is in time with his. in, out. in, out.

thats when you say it. you whisper it; you thought he was asleep.

"but im right here," he mumbles, talking through a large yawn.

you let the silence stretch out, then you say that its different somehow. you miss how it used to be.

this time, hes asleep.

* * *

blaine is a sweetheart. hes the perfect housewife. he gives every last drop of his attention to you, and when he doesnt, its all apologies and kisses and hugs. you know hed bend to your every whim, as long as you stay with him, as long as you love him. 

hes talking about the wedding a lot these days. you set a date, but you cant remember it off the top of your head; you have to be assisted with the calendar pinned by a magnet to the fridge. you want to throw up every time you see it, the date marked by a heart drawn in red sharpie. blaine came to you at first with all the decisions and planning, but you just agreed with him on everything, so he doesnt bother consulting you anymore. it doesnt bug you too much.

he loves you. he loves you so much.

he deserves more.

* * *

blaine doesnt notice how distant youve been, or at least, he doesnt let anything on. the only time you feel close to him is when you watch youtube videos of warblers performances with him. you love listening to him talk; he tells you how hed do things and the changes hed make to the number to improve it. you like to close your eyes and imagine him in his old uniform, pretending you can hear his singing in the video.

* * *

he never stops trying with you. you dont know if he ever will. 

all of your responses to him are short. distracted. away. always, always away. 

you dont have sex much anymore. youve been more irritable about the whole thing, about him continuously asking if youre okay because you are, yeah, you are, but you might not be in a minute or a second and you cant confidently tell yourself or him if you will be okay. he begs you not to be mad at him. you arent mad at him; youre mad at yourself.

he doesnt complain. but he doesnt try much anymore.

* * *

you find yourself looking at your junior prom photo a lot now-a-days. you never put it on a shelf or hung it anywhere. it stays in the bottom of your sock drawer, you arent sure if blaines ever found it. (if he did, he wouldnt bring it up) its your favorite picture, a whirlwind of feelings and events all captured in one photo encased in a frame where itll be safe and unchanged forever.

blaine is out late. you usually forget where he tells you he is, if he tells you at all. you fall asleep with the frame held to your chest.

* * *

he yells at you a lot. you yell at him a lot. its when you both feel most alive. 

"im tired."

you tell him the wedding will fix everything. 

* * *

you find yourself lost in your schoolwork. its a comfortable constant you bury yourself in. it gives you an excuse to drift farther away from blaine. he finally brings it up one day. he tells you that you need to try. you shoot back that youve been trying for so long.

* * *

wedding talk, wedding talk, wedding talk.

you love planning weddings. you thought planning your own wedding would be the most incredible, fulfilling thing ever. you thought youd be on top of it all, choosing between table cloths and napkins, different palettes and venues. blaine doesnt really know what hes doing; he tells you that a lot.

wedding talk again today. you arent even looking at him.

that does it.

he asks you if you really do want to marry him.

(you dont)

you tell him you dont know. its a fib. its enough to push him away, for good or not, you cant tell.

you tell him you love him; a truth to balance a lie. no one tells you that sometimes love isnt enough. you tell him hes your best friend.

"unfortunately, youre my best friend too."

hes hurt, and you are too.

**Author's Note:**

> as im sure if youve all noticed, i really only write for myself but still im a little afraid of posting this. ive never written anything for glee and i know not a lot of people will like this, but i also dont really care. like, i project myself a lot onto kurt, it was only a matter of time before i wrote a glee fic lol. i hope you enjoyed


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